


The Games We Play

by MrEvilside



Series: Alternative Ways of Mourning [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambition, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Fix-It, Flirting, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Games, Sexual Tension, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrEvilside/pseuds/MrEvilside
Summary: The Grandmaster felt a tug downwards at a corner of his lip when he heard Loki’s neck crack. He paused the video, rewound it, replayed the scene. Crack. Again. Crack. Again. Crack.The second instalment, from the Grandmaster's perspective, about the events following the "Asgardian spaceship" accident.





	The Games We Play

The Grandmaster lay back against the headboard of his large, empty bed. Floating in the air above him was a holographic screen. He brought a glass full of a dense, green liquid to his lips and took a sip.

   _‘I could have done it, father! I could have done it!’_

_‘No, Loki.’_

The Grandmaster made a face and waved the remote he held in his other hand. He fast-forwarded to a different part of the story and laughed as whales swam in the sky and buildings burnt. That – oh! – that was a lot more fun.

   Soon, however, his elation was replaced by a grimace.

   Tears, streaming down pale cheeks. Those little things shone like gems, but they were so ugly and impractical. They could make a mess of the best make-up. They were simply distasteful.

   _‘Sentiment.’_

The Grandmaster shuddered at the word. Who had a need for _that_?

   He skipped to yet another scene and scrunched up his nose.

   That Thanos was just so irritating. So presumptuous. Who did he think he was, wiping out half the universe? Stealing the Infinity Stones? He acted like he _owned_ the place. Please.

   The Grandmaster drank some more as he watched what had happened on the Asgardian spaceship. He already knew that particular story beat by heart; he had played it over and over again as he healed Loki.

   Minds hold on to their very last memory as tightly as a living being would cling to a lifeline. Funny, that, when such memory is so painful.

   The Grandmaster felt a tug downwards at a corner of his lip when he heard Loki’s neck crack. He paused the video, rewound it, replayed the scene. Crack. Again. Crack. Again. Crack.

   ‘Grandmaster?’

   The Elder turned his head away from the screen and the video dissolved into white smoke without so much as a word spoken to will it to.

   ‘Ah.’ This time, the vision before him made his lips curve upwards. ‘Someone’s looking dashing.’

   Loki smiled back. ‘You think?’

   He was clad in a turquoise tunic, with a golden stripe down his chin and matching golden eye makeup – the Grandmaster’s own colour, only inverted. His hair smelt clean and framed his face like inky ribbons. The cut of the robe showed an expanse of flat, pale chest and a very healthy, very well put together porcelain neck. One the Grandmaster could bite into, not one he had to see broken.

   The Grandmaster wriggled his fingers at him and laughed. ‘You, you know how much I like those colours on you,’ he said. ‘What do you want, my dear?’

   ‘You wound me.’ Loki chuckled, covering the distance between them in a few long strides. If he had noticed the video and the fact the Grandmaster didn’t comment on it, when he _always_ commented on anything he did, Loki didn’t mention it. Instead, he walked around the Elder’s chair like a graceful panther stalking its prey, then sat in his lap, straddling his waist. ‘Why would you think this is all an artifice to get what I want?’ Loki asked. ‘Maybe I just want to look good for you.’

   ‘That’s, uh, that’s very flattering.’ The Grandmaster patted his arm. He leant back and lifted both hands, so they were hovering over Loki’s hips without touching them. ‘But, uh, you didn’t answer. What do you want?’

   Loki gave him a disgruntled look, to which the Elder replied with a mirthful grin. The god sighed and answered, ‘If you must ruin all the fun… I do have some questions.’ He ran his fingertips from the Grandmaster’s shoulder down to his wrist, ghosting over the skin his sleeve left bare. ‘Nothing to worry about. I’m just… curious.’

   ‘All righty,’ the Grandmaster said. ‘You, you should have just told me! You know I can get you, well, anything you want, right? Talking—talking’s easy.’

   As he spoke those carefree words, the calculating edge to Loki’s expression was a spoiler alert for the Elder. This particular conversation would be anything but easy.

   ‘Do you remember when I was having nightmares?’ Loki asked.

   ‘Sure do, my dear. Hope you’re feeling a little, a little better now?’

   ‘I do.’ The god swatted his concern away, though the Grandmaster could feel in the uneasy thrum of his magic that he was lying. ‘They were simply a manifestation of what happened with Hela, I imagine. That was about two weeks after my arrival, wasn’t it?’

   The smile didn’t leave the Grandmaster’s placid face. ‘Yup. About a month ago,’ he declared.

   ‘So where’s Topaz?’

   The Elder knew he was letting Loki know he knew Loki’s game when he didn’t react with surprise or shock to the question. His gaze sharpened and his voice lost its familiar, cheerful stutter, which only happened when he dropped his façade of blissful ignorance.

   ‘I haven’t seen her around since the nightmares,’ Loki continued in a conversational tone when the Grandmaster ducked his head to the side, scrutinising him. ‘She seemed quite efficient, in her own way. I understand if you prefer not to share, but she must have done something truly upsetting to deserve the melting stick.’

   It occurred to the Elder that perhaps he did _not_ know Loki’s game. Perhaps what he thought it might be was a construct of his mind, which stemmed from facts that Loki did not possess, because the Grandmaster had taken them from him. Hmm. Perhaps it was worth playing along to find out where this would go.

   ‘Ugh.’ He closed one eye as if Loki’s words caused a physical wound. ‘You got me. I, uh, you’re right, I don’t really want to talk about it. It stings, you know? When you think, you think you can trust someone… I mean, what if you couldn’t trust me? Imagine that!’ Loki didn’t dare answer. The Elder chose to be merciful and did not press the topic. ‘But yeah, I, I had to melt her. It’s not a… a party story, if you know what I mean? Now yours—those are awesome party stories! This one? Not so much. And, and I do, you know, miss her. Not like, I regret the execution or anything, the law is the law and I’m the law, so when she broke the law technically she broke me—‘

   ‘I’m surprised,’ Loki had to raise his voice to cut off his blubbering, then hurried to lower it again in subtle apology, ‘I didn’t hear of it at the time. Executions usually have an after-party, don’t they?’

   ‘Not this one, I’m afraid.’ The Grandmaster shrugged. ‘It was, it was personal, you know?’

   ‘Of course. I understand no one else has taken her place yet?’

 _Oh_. So that was Loki’s angle. Clever, clever space boy – god, “it’s complicated,” whatever. The Elder liked him, had liked him since he first showed up on his planet like so much garbage, and Loki never stopped amusing him. That was why he didn’t deserve to have his beautiful neck snapped, nor did he deserve to remember it. That was why the Grandmaster would keep him and give him whatever he wanted – unless he became boring, of course, though the Elder doubted it would happen too soon.

   ‘Well, I’ve been giving interviews…’ The Grandmaster frowned, remembering the disastrous week Darryl had spent as “the new Topaz.” It turned out earthlings weren’t as durable or knowledgeable about other planets as one would expect. ‘I haven’t found a suitable candidate yet, though.’

   ‘Are applications still open?’ Loki inquired, a small smile playing charmingly over his lips.

   The Elder laughed. ‘How about we skip that and I put you on… I don’t know, a trial? Nothing too complicated, just, well, the job. So you can see how you get on and all before you make a decision,’ he offered.

   Loki’s smile grew, though the Grandmaster detected a tiny flare of bitterness in the thread of his magic. It wasn’t like Loki was going to “make a decision”. What else would he have on Sakaar, if not the Elder’s favour?

   ‘That sounds wonderful,’ the god replied. ‘Shall I start immediately?’

   ‘All business and no play, huh?’ The Grandmaster laid a hand on his wrist when Loki made to get off of him. ‘Seal the deal with a kiss first?’

   The god stopped and smirked at him playfully, but didn’t move to comply. ‘I was under the impression you liked it when I play hard to get,’ he objected, adjusting his tunic to cover his chest in a demure fashion. ‘It seemed to upset you just moments ago, when I offered.’

   What a great actor. The Elder was a sucker for a good performance.

   ‘I don’t… _not_ like it.’ The Grandmaster’s smile was like ice – with the potential to break and make Loki sink. ‘But, uh, you can’t play the same game forever, am I right?’

   ‘I like to play until I win,’ Loki answered. He placed one hand on the nape of the Elder’s neck, bent down to offer him a peek inside the tunic, and gave him a peck on the cheek that lasted a little too long to be chaste. ‘I look forward to making a start, Sir.’

   The Grandmaster watched him strut away with the same elegance with which he had come forth. He could make do with the teasing for a while longer. After all, he had long since stopped playing for victory. Loki didn’t know it yet, but he had already won. It was a shame, in fact, that he could _never_ know, so the Elder had to find comfort in his endearing efforts to prolong what he considered an on-going match. You have to appreciate the small gifts life gives you every millennium or so.

 

*

 

   Wielding the melting stick at the Grandmaster’s side, Loki executed his will with a sly smile and a quick-witted tongue.

   For every creature he melted, for every flirtation exchanged with the Elder, Loki added a victory to his tally.

   After the first day, the other servants wouldn’t dare call him “the new Topaz.” Victory.

   After the first week, they bowed to him and whispered, “Master Loki,” to greet him. Victory.

   Loki didn’t know how long it would take, but, in the end, he would have their fear and respect, and the Grandmaster’s trust.

   And once he had the Grandmaster’s trust, why would the Elder deny him his only request?

 _I want my memories back_.

   Until then, Loki had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> • This is the second instalment in a series of short pieces about my personal interpretation of a “fix-it Infinity War” fic. It might not fix things as happily as one might expect. You can read the previous instalment in the link below.  
> • I hope you guys liked this one. A lot of people clamoured for a second chapter in their comments (thanks so, so much for all the lovely feedback), so I was keen to deliver.  
> • Fun fact – the two chapters are about the same length because OCD. Hah!  
> • If you’d like to see more, if you enjoy my writing, or if you have anything else to say, please leave a comment. I love to chat with fellow fans of this pairing.  
> • I’m taking requests for more FrostMaster fics [here](http://mrevilside.tumblr.com/post/173599118197/accepting-frostmaster-requests). Ask away :)


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